Fate
by StoryGirl02
Summary: there was nothing they could do about it


****

Fate

_-wanted it to end this way-_

* * *

**I**

_(And we know it's never simple, never easy_  
_Never a clean break, no one here to save me)_

Once upon a time, there was a bushy-haired, brown eyed witch who had clutched books to her chest, glared at the boys who dared to glance her way, and smiled softly at one special boy. The boy, a scowl painted onto his mouth normally, secretly returned her smile, grey eyes locked onto her own.

And then, once upon a time, a dark-haired girl who normally had her own eyes locked onto the special boy, nudged her heavy-set friend and pointed towards him. The boy didn't take his eyes off of the girl as he ate, sloppy gravy dripping down onto his robes as a result. The same had happened at the girl's table, a red-haired boy nudged his friend, the most famous wizard of their time, and pointing at the girl. She too, like him, had her eyes locked onto the boy, although she had more sense to look down when she decided to eat.

_(She was smart like that) _

And once upon at time, seated up at the High Table, Dumbledore recorded this unusual series of events with twinkling eyes and a smile on his face.

* * *

**II**

_(I don't believe that anybody _  
_Feels the way I do about you now)_

The boy and girl passed a year at Hogwarts with no more smiles in public. Clutching books to her chest, the girl rushed past a crowd of chattering students to run up a flight of steps, her tight hold on the armful of books increasing. Interestingly, as if by fate, one still managed to slip from her arms, clambering down the stairs, before landing open somewhere in the middle, at the bottom of the stairs. The boy, stuck in the crowd, noticed this, and tried to fight his way out of the crowd so he could grab it before it was crushed.

Hands snaking around it, he hurried over to where the girl had stopped bewilderment on her face at the sudden shift in weight underneath her arm.

"Here," he said, watching as she turned around, bushy hair almost hitting a boy who had been walking up the stairs. The stranger scowled at her, before moving away hurrying to his next class.

"Thanks," she said, taking the book from his arm and placing it in its regular spot.

"_Er-_ you're welcome," he said, before walking down the stairs, disappearing around the next corner, away from the girl's sight.

"Wait!" she cried out, hurrying down the stairs. "Wait… please wait…" She shook her head, sighing softly. After standing there for a few moments, breathing deeply, she turned and made her way up the stairs, gathering her fallen books back into her awaiting arms.

The boy's name would remain a mystery until they met again, but that night, she dreamt of pale skin and grey eyes.

* * *

**III**

_(I will stand by you forever_  
_You can take my breath away)_

The girl's sobs filled the night air, tears streaming down her cheeks, landing softly on the carpet below. Sniffling, she wrapped her arms around her knees, drawing them in closer to her body, her robes tucked in around them. The fire was a pile of embers behind her, the common room finally vacant. Sighing as she nestled her head onto the pillows behind, the girl blinked back tears, her hands resting on the cool window, eyes watching the spring rain fall.

She had been called a Mudblood by him. The one boy she always knew would call her that, but wished he wouldn't. He had spat it out like it was her own name, the name she had been born with, smirking up at her, finally content. And, she, brightest witch of their age, had had no retort, no clever comeback to throw at him.

His grey eyes haunted her. How could one boy be so perfect, but yet so flawed? How could she have ever thought that her useless feelings could ever come to fruition, for him, perfect and Pureblood, to actually love her, a muddy Mudblood.

How could Draco Malfoy _ever _love her?

* * *

**IV**

_(When you lose something you can't replace  
When you love someone, but it goes to waste)_

"Harry!" The girl squealed happily, ducking the thrown snowball. "Harry, where are you?" Her red gloved hand patted a snowball together, her eyes darting around the snow-covered grounds for any signs of movement.

Once the snowball had been finished, she placed in the slowly growing pile beside her, clutching another handful of snow in her hands and patting it together to form a ball. The beanie that she had shoved on her head before running out to greet the falling snow was falling over her eyes, matting her frizzy hair down.

Sighing, she pushed it up, placing the newly finished snowball in the pile and beginning to start a new one. Her brown eyes darted around the grounds once more, searching for her black-haired friend.

Through her eyes she saw what her heart desired and, in the same time frame, the one boy she never wished to see again.

Draco Malfoy was standing ten feet away, arms folded over his chest, a black beanie stuffed onto his pale head. Two looming figures of just bulk and no brains stood beside him, and a simpering black-haired girl latched onto his arm, fluttering her eyelashes up at him softly.

Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles together threateningly, heavy fists swinging back to their side. Slowly, as if everything was being captured in slow motion, Hermione watched, hands still moulding a snowball together like a robot, as Malfoy and his entourage made their slow way towards her.

Once they had reached her, Pansy immediately pulled her arm away from Malfoy's, glaring down at her with obvious disgust. Her nose was thrown high up into the air, as if she smelt something that reeked.

Hermione shook her head softly.

"Mudblood," Malfoy said, as a way of greeting, smirking down at her. She glared up at him for the use of that disgusting insult, and sighing, plastered her eyes to her red mittens that were slightly damp from the snow.

"So," he began, pacing around the trees to come standing in front of her, a scowl plastered onto his pointed face. "Where is the disgustingly happy Potter and Weasel?"

"Not that it's any of your business," she told her, glancing up with obvious contempt. "But I honestly don't know."

"What, Potter and Weasel deserted their poor, helpless mudblood?" he sneered, glancing back at his cronies for approval. They nodded slowly, grunting happily. Crabbe and Goyle had long reminded her of uneducated monkeys, and every time she saw them, her connection between the two species only became clearer.

Still, it _was_ an insult to the monkeys.

"No," she said slowly. "They've just gone," she said, defending her friends. Malfoy laughed, humourlessly.

"You really believe that?" he questioned, smirking at her short bob of her head, the snowball now laying forgotten on the ground, the snow that she had worked so hard to pat together melting away into water.

"I bet," he said, taking Pansy's arm, making Pansy smile with uncontrolled happiness. Hermione scoffed at her, sitting on the ground, lower than them just as they liked.

"I bet," Malfoy repeated, his grey eyes staring callously into hers. "That Potter and Weasel have gotten sick of you, and left you here, all alone in the cold. And you chose to call them friends!"

"What do you know of the term?" she questioned, standing up, her small hands patting snow away from her pants. "It's not like you show an answer, hanging around these people."

"Is that true?" Malfoy asked her, dropping Pansy's arm, shaking his head softly. "No, for once, Granger I think you've gotten it wrong. I treat Crabbe and Goyle here with respect, and in return for my kindness, they just do each and everything that pops into my head. Pansy, as well has been treated with respect, and knows full well, the repercussions if she was to act out. My family could be the only saving grace of hers, just so you know."

"So Granger," he began, pacing around once more. He smirked down at her, and Hermione cursed their height difference, and the fact that he with more than four inches on her, could easily tower over her smaller frame. "I think I know a little about the term, "friends'."

He turned to go, leaving Hermione smouldering with anger in the snow.

"And Granger?" he questioned, turning his pale head around to stare into her flashing eyes.

"Yes?" she gritted out, clenching her fists together.

"I'd absolutely hate it if you were left out in the cold," he said, politely, the smile on his face a façade.

"I'll be sure to come in then," she told him, glancing up at her, her voice no more than a whisper.

In that moment, even though she had been sure to have realized it before, Hermione truly doubted that Draco Malfoy had _ever_ been kind.

* * *

**V**

_(Once or twice was enough_  
_And it was all in vain)_**  
**

She looked up, brown orbs scanning the crowded room. For the first time in her four years attending Hogwarts, the library was full without a single empty chair left to its name. Shaking her bushy head, she returned to her work, sucking the end of her quill thoughtfully.

She knew why the library was full, of course. It was all because of Viktor Krum. The international star had been pacing around here lately, annoying her and distracting her from her work, because wherever he went a gaggle of chattering girls followed.

She had complained to Madam Pince, of course, but the old woman had just merely shaking her head, fully enjoying the fact that people other than Hermione herself and a few scattered students here and there were actually borrowing books. Hermione had huffed, and returned to her strewn work mumbling curses at the woman under her heated breath.

It wasn't _fair._

Why couldn't Viktor Krum just go off and die in a hole?

The library was her sanctum, the one place she could be alone.

And he had destroyed it.

Then, one day something changed. Viktor Krum wasn't there on Saturday when she walked in, fully expecting to have to fight for a seat just like she had to have had last week.

Malfoy was the only occupant in library, beside her. Mumbling under his breath, he flipped pages in a heavy tome angrily, quill poised perfectly in his pale hand.

"Where is everyone?" she asked, not particularly to anyone.

Malfoy grunted.

"Fine, then," she said, taking her seat at her regular table, distinguishable by the faint scratches she had made by her quill in second year. This table provided her with a front-on view of Malfoy, hair in a state of disarray, mumbling things underneath his breath. Hermione smiled slightly, opening her book.

An hour later, when Madam Pince had gone for lunch and had left them there, Hermione was jolted from her thoughts by a sudden crash. She looked up, dropped her quill, and raced to the stacks where Malfoy had conveniently dropped four tomes on the floor, each and every one open their pages bent at odd angles. She supposed he had done it to gain her attention.

"So, Krum likes you huh?" Malfoy asked, leaning against the shelf causally, picking at lint on his robes. Hermione huffed, picking up the books and stacking them correctly into their assorted places.

"So what if he does?" she answered, turning to face him. "It's not like it's any of your business."

"Oh, but it is Granger," he drawled slowly, strands of blond hair falling into his eyes. He brushed it back carelessly.

"Why's that?" she asked, taking a seat, making Malfoy stand up and walk a few paces to be close enough to her so he wouldn't have to shout his answer.

"We wouldn't want an international Quidditch star, a _pureblood_ for Merlin's sakes, falling for a muggleborn, now, would we?"

She huffed, thumping a book down on the table. Glaring at him over her shoulder, Hermione tucked a strand of bushy hair behind her ear. Completely satisfied, Draco walked back to his table, whistling merrily.

"Wait!" she called out, when he turned to leave.

"Mmm?" Casually, he faced her, taking in the sight of her over-worked figure hunched over a parchment. "You really should learn to relax Granger," he told her, "It really does wonder for the image."

"Shut up. Now, I've only got one question, and I'm pretty convinced I know the answer. Earlier, when you were so nicely warning me off Krum you called me a muggleborn. Not a mudblood, like you like to do regularly. But a muggle-born. Why?"

He scowled, before walking away. She stood up, running after him, watching as he reached the open doors.

An eyebrow rose up at the sight of her, and he sighed, shaking his head. "Didn't you know Granger?" he asked, looking at her. "It's be kind to a Mudblood day."

* * *

**VI**

_(I could spend my life in this sweet surrender  
I could stay lost in this moment forever)_

Hermione knew that she had fallen for Malfoy when her eyes seemed to be glued to him, moving when he did. Not even the sight of Ron caressing Lavander lovingly could tear her off Malfoy.

She just didn't see why she had fallen for him. Sure, he was mildly attractive, but he scowled all the time. In fact, Hermione was sure she had never once seen him smile. It seemed to be impossible for a Malfoy to look happy. They had to be in a constant state of resentment, melancholy, or jerkiness.

Why had she fallen for him? Why was he the one who haunted her dreams at night, and the one she wanted to spend the rest of her life with? It wasn't fair, and now, for the first time ever, Hermione Granger hated her emotions.

It just wasn't fair. She was fairly certain that Ron liked her, and she should have been able to go out with him with these emotions dragging her back. Ron was simple, and Draco Malfoy was a mystery.

A mystery she desperately craved to solve.

* * *

**VII**

_(Bittersweet m__emories _  
_That is all I'm taking with me)_

She looked around, wand shaking in her grasp. Sweaty curls fell into her face, but she could hardly muster the strength to be able to push them back into place. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, letting a tear roll down her cheek. Harry couldn't be dead.

If he was dead, and her heart refused to believe that, then who would save them? He was destined to save them. How could he have just bowed down, and let his life his future, slip away?

A strangled sob came out of her throat, and barley caring if someone came along to kill her, she crumpled to the floor, tears slipping onto her torn robes. Everyone had left her.

"I haven't," someone said behind her. Hermione wiped her tears slowly, breathing heavily.

_(Had she really voiced that last desperate plea for help out loud?)_

"I haven't left you," the voice repeated.

She smiled tearfully, and turned her head, expecting to see the smiling friendly figure of someone, anyone that she could run to and who could comfort her in her time of crisis.

But fate had to be cruel. The only person she could see, the only person who could help was him, was the only person who wouldn't.

Malfoy.

Hermione laughed tiredly at the irony, tucking hair behind her ears. She brandished her wand in front of her, pointing it squarely at Draco's forehead. "You," she spat out, shaking her head softly. "You have the nerve to try and comfort me after all you have done?"

Draco scowled. "I haven't done anything," he told her, blond hair falling carelessly on his face.

Hermione closed her eyes slowly. "Please, please don't try and feed me that total bullshit, Malfoy," she muttered softly, shaking her head. "I still am recovering from your precious aunt's attack on me at your Manor. Every night I try to sleep, but all I can see is you, standing there like the pathetic coward you still are, not even helping me as I screamed."

Draco sneered at her. "If it hadn't been for me, mudblood, your precious Potter and Weasel would have been there with you squirming and bleeding as well. I figured it was better to let you take the punishment, and leave your Potter and Weasel-bee without the pain."

Hermione let her eyes open, shaking her head at his words. "You still could have done something," she argued. "Was it really that hard to reach inside yourself and find empathy for the poor mudblood bleeding on your floor, her dirty blood spilling all over the clean floors in your Manor! Gods, do you care for anyone but yourself?"

"_Yes." _

She laughed humourlessly. "You absolute _bastard," _she said, walking towards him wand in the air.

Draco shrugged his shoulders. "Try and understand where I am coming from, Granger," he told her. "My aunt was the one torturing you. My aunt, who had a vital role in the killing of the Longbottoms. If I had done anything to help you, made a single cry for your pain, or even try to comfort you, she would have turned on me barely caring I was her nephew, the last of the line of Blacks. That's why I didn't help you. Believe me if I could have, I would."

"And how can I believe that?" Hermione questioned, lowering her wand slightly, leaving it hovering in mid-air.

"You just have to trust me."

Then, without warning, he paced towards her, and titled her head up so she could stare into his eyes. Brown met grey, and slowly, he brought his lips down to hers, capturing them. His tongue demanded entrance, and, curling her hands around his neck, she became submissive.

She had imagined this, in her dreams. Draco, coming to swept her off her feet, looking handsome and charming, and she, running towards him and kissing him.

Ron's kiss had barely compared to the excitement and emotion she felt with dream-Draco imaginary single kiss.

They broke apart, Hermione instantaneously missing the taste of chocolate. Draco breathed softly, white fog disappearing into the chill night air. "So," he began, whispering as softly as he could. "Do you trust me?"

Hermione answered his question with a kiss, a soft giggle vibrating against his flushed cheeks. If they could only be together for one night, if she had to return to her normal life after this, then she was definitely making it a night to always remember.

In the end, Draco had been the one to comfort her. But, still, she would return to Ron.

Hermione Granger was too scared to break out of the mould. Ron was stable, but Draco was like the seasons, always changing. She would choose stability over happiness, no matter the day. She would choose Ron over Draco, even if it tore her heart into pieces to do so.

People _just don't_ marry their first love. Even if she had wanted to, she never would have been able to.

Because Draco died that night, his blood staining her hands.

_(Fate wanted it to end this way)_

* * *

**God, I can't believe I've finally posted this. The majority of this was written at least a year ago! XD I've changed a few things, but nothing major. Review, please? ;) **

**Lyrics: **

**I- Breathe- Taylor Swift**

**II- Wonderwall- Oasis**

**III- Hero- Enrique Iglesias**

**IV- Fix You- Coldplay**

**V- Bleeding Love- Leona Lewis**

VI- I Don't Want to Miss a Thing- Aerosmith

VII- I Will Always Love You- Whitney Houston


End file.
